Rangers Lead the Way, Никто, кроме нас!
by D353RT5TORM
Summary: Pvt. Jenna Moore and Pvt. Natalia Petrova are two soldiers on opposite sides of WW3. Both are plain cannon fodder for their respective countries, but they slowly break as the world around them crumbles by the will of a single man. For the record, "Rangers Lead the Way" is a motto for the US Army Rangers, "Никто, кроме нас!" for Russian VDV. MW2/MW3 timeline. OC/Frost?
1. Red Dawn

_Operation Wolverine_

_August 13, 2016_

_Pvt. Natalia Petrova_

_Russian VDV_

_Airspace over Virginia, USA_

Natalia quietly fiddled with her handgun as her AN-124 rocked from the explosions going off outside the aircraft. She was a VDV soldier who was forced to fight for the Ultranationalists in the aftermath of 2011's civil war, and was deployed to invade the United States after US-supported terrorists attacked Zakhaev International Airport.

Or so she was told.

None of it really mattered, she was there to fight for her country. The United States was to pay for their mistake of messing with Russia. Unlike the other soldiers, however, she wasn't out for revenge or anything because a relative of theirs died in the massacre.

She didn't really have any time to ponder why she was fighting. A message over the aircraft's intercom came on, and everyone's attention snapped to the speakers.

"You all know what we are here for. Many of you have lost loved ones. Some of you haven't. Either way, you have a duty for your great nation! We will exact revenge on the murderers who spilled our people's blood on our soil! We stand for what we, as a country, believe in! Remember the massacre!" the speaker blared.

A dim red light flooded the cabin, and the ramp slowly lowered.

"Are we actually doing this crap?" Natalia asked her CO.

"Shut up, dumbass, and JUMP!" he yelled back.

She quickly ran and leaped off the plane, and deployed her chute.

"Mother of God," she gasped as she saw the thousands of parachutes around her, the bursts of anti-aircraft guns going off, and the massive landscape of Virginia just waiting to be conquered.

-_at the same time-_

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

_US Army medic attached to 75__th__ Rangers, 1__st__ Battalion_

"Mom, what the hell? I'm done with school!" Jenna muttered as someone shook her in her bed. "MOM I SWEAR WHAT THE FU-?"

"Moore. I freaking swear," her friend Pvt. James Ramirez snapped. "Get up! The Russkies are falling from the sky!"

Jenna fell out of the bed, and rose, shaking herself off.

"You're kidding me. Right?" she asked. "This is one of your sick jokes, isn't it?"

Before James could answer, Sgt. Foley swung open the door and walked in, adjusting his Ranger Green plate carrier over his Army Combat Uniform.

"It's no joke, Moore. Get your rear in gear, we need to secure an HVI ASAP," Foley ordered. "Time's wasting, what the hell are you waiting for!?"

Jenna and James both started gearing up.

"Where's my jacket?" Jenna muttered. "No time for this."

Instead, she just put on everything on top of her standard-issue tan T-shirt.

_No one's getting harmed, I guess. If Ivans are invading America I don't think it matters if I don't follow regs, _she thought.

The Rangers jogged out and joined the rest of the troops scrambling to their Humvees and Strykers to meet the Russians.

James spotted Cpl. Dunn, who was motioning the two to get in the Humvee.

He quickly leaped into the passenger seat, and Jenna took her spot in the back.

"Seriously?" James shot, holding up a picture of a girl he found on the dashboard. "You still have this damn photo? WHY IS IT SO STICKY!?"

"Your sister's hot," Dunn sheepishly grinned. "What-!? Hands off the radio, dude!"

Ramirez chuckled as he slid a CD into the player. "It's Raining Men" by The Weather Girls began to play over the speakers.

"You have a sick sense of humor, James," Jenna giggled as the Humvee followed the rest of the convoy. The Rangers were going to make Ivan cry.

* * *

**I know, I know, it's short. But trust me, it gets better if you keep on going, kids. **


	2. Welcome to the Black Parade

_Operation Wolverine_

_August 13, 2016_

_Pvt. Natalia Petrova_

_Russian VDV_

_Virginia, USA_

"GODDAMMIT!" Pvt. Natalia Petrova swore, grunting as she tried to reach her knife. Of course, of all things to happen, she had to land in a tree. TWO FEET OFF THE DAMN GROUND.

She scanned the vicinity to see if anyone who could help her was nearby. She clutched her AKS-74 carbine in her hand, just in case anyone who _wouldn't_ help her was nearby.

After seeing pretty much no one, she continued to struggle to get her knife. Where the hell was it? Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted part of a convoy headed down the road, and instantly recognized the shape of American Humvees. She instantly played dead and hung in the tree as she waited for them to pass.

* * *

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

_75__th__ Rangers Regiment, 1__st__ Bt._

Pvt. Jenna Moore leaned back in her seat and stroked her M4A1 carbine, eyeing the words "Black Parade" she etched into it.

_Nothing makes war more fun than My Chemical Romance references_, she thought.

She suddenly saw a Russkie paratrooper hanging in a tree. She quickly tapped Pvt. Ramirez on the shoulder and pointed.

"Don't worry, that one's dead. VDV," he replied, recognizing the urban red camouflaged uniform. "Oh, look, it's a chick. Yeah, she probably got hit by AA or something coming down, no paratrooper is that stupid to land in a tree."

"Stop dicking around and keep your eyes peeled," Cpl. Dunn called out from the driver's seat.

Natalia silently waited for the Yanks to pass, silently thinking, _How stupid was landing in a tree?_

After the last of the Humvees disappeared, she quickly got her radio (in reach, unlike her knife) and suddenly stopped.

"Что за хуы? I could have radioed for help!" she swore. "Whatever."

"This is Poacher 3-1. Be advised, I have spotted American convoy headed east. Recommend intercepting them with a BTR. I am stuck in a tree, and my coordinates are as follows," she said, naming her position.

"Roger, 3-1. This is 1-2, we will intercept them at the nearest intersection, and we're sending Sgt. Petrov from 1-3 and his men for you," came the reply.

"Copy that, 1-2. Tell him that Natalie told him to hurry his ass up," Natalia chuckled. Sgt. Viktor "Vik" Petrov was her cousin, also in the VDV.

"Hey Poacher 3-1. This is Poacher 1-3 Actual. Nice to hear from you again. Who are you sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G this time?" a familiar voice radioed.

"Real funny, Vik. Says the one who landed on the instructor during training," Natalia told him back. "I think that he was so brain-damaged he asked for you to get promoted."

"Shut up."

* * *

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

Sgt. Foley interrupted Jenna in the middle of her "secret" Tetris session with a "We got a BTR! GET OUT, GET OUT! Team, this way, let's go let's go!"

With her piece in her left hand and Game Boy in her right, she leaped out of the Humvee and followed Ramirez as the BTR shredded the vehicle in front of them. She lifted her rifle and sprayed as she ran, not noticing the curb, and tripped.

"For the love of-" said Dunn, who quickly ran and grabbed the back of Jenna's vest, dragging her into the alley between two houses as Pvt. Morgan covered him.

"Thanks dude, I owe you one," she sighed.

James Ramirez stepped up and handed her something.

"Here's your Game Boy. Don't see why I brought it, after all, Nintendium can survive nuclear explosions from what I know," he coughed as he shouldered his SCAR-H.

"Overlord, this is Hunter 2-1 requesting air support, over!" Sgt. Foley shouted over comms.

"I don't think we'll have it, look at all the enemy air overh-" Jenna piped up as Foley interrupted her.

"Shut up, Moore!" he snapped, holding up his hand.

"Hunter 2-1, all air support is already engaged. Additional ground support is en route to your position but has encountered heavy resistance, over," Overlord responded matter-of-factly like he always did.

Jenna glared at Foley and pressed the corner of her mouth and her cheek, giving him that "skeptical" look. He nodded back and started moving, and everyone else followed.

The bunch jogged through the yard and slid into a ditch full of filthy water and trash.

"Roger that Overlord. Be advised, we've encountered enemy armor and are proceeding on foot, over," Foley replied.

"Overlord copies all. Good luck. Out," Overlord ended.

"He pretty much just told us to stick it up our ass," James quietly said to Jenna.

Overhearing the two, Dunn raised his voice. "Sarge, did HQ just tell us to go 'F' ourselves?"

"Pretty much, Corporal," Foley sighed.

As they crossed the street, something exploded to Jenna's left. The BTR was there, and everyone lifted their rifles.

"Wait, stop!" Jenna shouted. "Don't fire at him, he doesn't see us."

"She has a point," Ramirez agreed, being the first to lower his gun. Everyone else followed suit and proceeded to sneak past.

They came through an alley perpendicular to the street it was on, to the right of the BTR. The soldiers ran onto the street, noticing the plume of smoke rising from where the HVI they needed to secure, Raptor, went down.

"We're spotted! Ramirez! Use your smoke grenades! Dunn, Morgan, Moore, cover him!" Foley shouted.

"Oh shi-" Ramirez panicked, throwing himself behind the ammo crate he was refilling from as shells went boom around him. He readied a smoke as Jenna and Dunn both fired at soldiers dismounting from the vehicle, killing them all in rapid succession.

Viktor, Natalia, and the rest came down the street and looked to the left at an intersection, identifying the BTR, albeit covered in smoke. They also saw at least three soldiers, one cowering behind an ammo crate, and the other two slaughtering the Russian soldiers coming out.

"Sons of bitches! I'll kill them all!" Natalia cried as everyone opened fire at the Rangers.

"Damn, let's go, LET'S GO!" Jenna freaked out, yanking Dunn to his feet and running.

She quickly slid into an alley and saw some poor Russkie struggling to get out of his chute and jumped as Ramirez popped him.

"Holy crap," he murmured, standing there. "My first kill. I've actually killed someone."

"No time for this, Ramirez!" Dunn yelled, running past and pushing him forward. "Not unless you want yourself to die only having one kill."

"Heh, 1:1 KD," Jenna giggled as she continued on behind Foley, who was in turn, behind Ramirez.

Pvt. Morgan proceeded to follow, but a gloved hand grabbed his face and another arm went around his torso as he was dragged into one of the nearby houses, greeted by a handful of VDV, specifically a cute Russkie chick and a dude with his hands clenched.

* * *

"Hey."

Viktor took his fist, wearing a tactical glove with hard knuckles, and socked him in the face.

"Where did you think you were going!?" he asked.

"Henry Morgan. Private," he deadpanned.

"What is your mission, Henry Morgan?" Vik inquired.

"Henry Morgan. Private."

"Dammit! All right, Private, let's see if you'll talk any longer," he said, frustrated with the protocol for answering to interrogation. "Natalia, you know what to do."

"What the hell, Vik? I'm better than this! _You're _better than this!" Natalia protested.

Viktor narrowed his eyes. _"Do it."_

She took her pistol and shoved it into his mouth. "Talk."

"Hehry Mohgeh -" he said one last time before Natalia pulled the trigger, splattering brain matter into his helmet and watching blood come down his face.

"I thought so. I recommend we move," he said in a low voice. "Stalk them and see where they're going."

* * *

**Another chapter gone. I'll keep it quick for any readers, if people even read this at all. I decided to integrate Jenna and Natalia into the actual story of MW2, and I'm trying not to use too much of its dialogue, so tell me if I do. If you understand what the title of this chapter and the name scribbled into Jenna's M4A1 is a reference to, you win a million bucks. The scene where Vik interrogates Pvt. Morgan may or may not be a reference to a certain scene in Battlefield 4. Poor Natalia is getting corrupted. Anyway, if you can, review this thing. I'm dying to hear your opinions on how absolutely terrible this thing is.**


	3. Fallen Angels

_Wolverines!_

_August 13, 2016_

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

_Attached to 1__st__ Bn, 75__th__ Rangers Regiment_

_Virginia, USA_

As the Rangers instinctively moved to cover in the alleyway, Pvt. Jenna Moore looked around. She could have sworn someone was missing.

"Where the hell is Morgan?" she asked herself.

She glanced at Foley, Dunn, and Ramirez, who were proceeding to clear the alleyway, then checked behind her. She noticed a trail of blood coming from the alley toward one of the houses, and was about to go to it as a round whizzed by her head. She immediately snapped her attention to the bunch of Russians behind her, lifted her rifle and opened fire on them.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the same time the Rangers were occupied, Vik, Natalia, and the Russians were moving out of the house where they interrogated Pvt. Morgan, sneaking out through the back door.

"You, stay right here and watch our backs. After we leave, we'll wait at that house over there for you," Vik said to a soldier, pointing. "Watch the body, I know for a fact someone will try and investigate."

As the VDV piled out the back door, Natalia tried to grasp what just happened. She had just illegally executed a soldier under orders.

"_It's fair enough. He must have deserved it,"_ she told herself.

After satisfying herself with her own justification, Natalia pledged that she would kill each and every American, whether they be combatants or civilians, within the range of her rifle, and wouldn't stop until Washington, DC burned down. The White House would burn to black ashes.

* * *

Dunn was getting sick and tired of the damn Russians who were perpetually present in the place. They wouldn't stop coming. He realized that it was a _gas station_ they were next to, and an evil grin came over his face. He took a grenade launcher and fired into the pumps, making the entire parking lot explode with a satisfying **BOOM!**

Ramirez attempted to round the corner, but a flurry of rounds exploded at his feet, making him perform an awkward dance back into cover.

"We're pinned," he gasped.

Jenna looked back at the house and decided to go over to it. She peered through the window, seeing one enemy soldier in there, and what looked like a person sitting down. She looked around the house and found the back door, checking it. Unlocked.

The soldier inside was astonished as an American suddenly appeared, took his head, and smashed it into a nearby window, but he was out cold before he could process it.

"M-mother of…" Jenna trailed off, gaping at Morgan's corpse.

She walked over to the unconscious Russian soldier and pulled out her canteen.

"Heh, I'm gonna break the Hippocratic Oath now," she chuckled to herself as she poured water over the man's face and removed her helmet.

"What the-? Ugh, my head…" he drawled in Russian.

Next thing, there was an enemy soldier standing over him with a pair of defibrillators and a handgun. This wasn't going to end well at all.

"Hey, Ivan. Care to tell me who that man is over there in the chair?" Jenna slowly spoke, as if she were trying to communicate with a child.

"I have n-no idea! I wasn't part of it!" he replied in a heavily-accented voice. "I-I mean, I saw it!"

"Fine. Where is the rest of your squad?" Jenna continued innocently.

"Not telling you."

"That's too bad. And to think I wouldn't just execute you on the spot," she smirked, holding up her M9.

"I'll never talk, you bitc-" the VDV man spat, only for the medic to drop her pistol, produce her pair of defibrillators, and shock him to death.

"Guess my looks made your heart stop," she quipped. "Damn. That was cheesy."

A soldier suddenly kicked open the front door, and Jenna's M9 immediately went in his direction.

"Whoa, whoa, no need for that. Where in the world have you been, we seriously need you back…in…the…" Pvt. James Ramirez trailed off. "…Morgan."

She could see it in his eyes. James snapped.

"Let's go," he growled, grabbing Jenna's arm and pulling her out the door.

* * *

"Where is he?" Pvt. Natalia Petrova said, to no one in particular.

"No idea. Whatever, we need to move. He's not going to come," Viktor replied, signaling to everyone to get up and move out. "There's a shopping center nearby. We need to get there and reinforce our men there, as the Americans are securing one of their HVIs."

"Whatever happened to following that one bunch?" Natalia frowned.

"No time, we need to beat them there."

James and Jenna both sprinted across the street toward the Nate's diner.

"That's where Sarge told us to go," he nodded, glancing toward Foley and Dunn behind a car waiting for them.

"Where were you?" Foley angrily squinted. "We thought you were deserting."

Jenna proceeded to hold up photos she had of Morgan. "Found him. It was the Russians."

Sgt. Foley felt his soul drain. He treated his men like his own family, and he felt as if he could have stopped this.

"We'll handle that afterwards," he said, straightening up as if nothing happened. "Let's go and ask where Raptor is."

As they jogged into Nates, a few Rangers took notice of Jenna among them.

"Look, guys, the base whore!"

"Walking mattress, inbound!"

"You give service to Russians now?"

She tried to ignore them as much as she could. After all, it was mostly rumors. She was trying to stop sleeping around with the men. It wasn't her fault they got her drunk on purpose to take advantage of her like that. No one is perfect. Or so she consoled herself.

"Private, gimme a sitrep! Where's Raptor?" Foley asked a soldier, tapping his shoulder.

Whipping around and reloading his rifle, he responded, "We moved him to the meat locker, it's practically bulletproof!"

"What's his status?"

"He's still unconscious, you got a medic?"

"Cpl. Dunn, Pvt. Moore, check it out. What else?" Foley said.

Jenna couldn't hear the rest of that conversation, as Dunn had tapped her helmet and motioned with his head to come to the meat locker where Raptor was. She did, however, hear Foley yell "Ramirez!" and order him to do something. Each time Foley called that name, a James Ramirez was dying somewhere.

* * *

"Wait for the smoke… ONE, TWO, THREE, GO!" Sgt. Petrov barked as the smoke grenade he just tossed popped.

His men proceeded to file out from behind the building, but all of a sudden the soldiers in front began to drop. Right when Natalia was about to move, the guy in front of her suddenly had his brains splattered on the wall.

"What are you doing, Petrova? MOVE!" the troops behind her yelled.

"No way in hell I'm going! There's a sniper!"

'For Zakhaev's sake, you're Russian! GO!"

She found herself pushed from cover. A round impacted the ground near her foot, and in panic, she fell to the ground.

Ramirez peered through the thermal scope of the M14 EBR he was armed with, lightly squeezing the trigger when necessary. It was way too easy.

Natalia scrambled behind a burnt-out car and whined as her comrades were picked off. She wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anywhere but this god-forsaken country, even the airport during the massacre.

A sentry gun atop the building spun up and aimed right at her, but at the last second, the sniper picked it up and deployed it in a different direction. Apparently, the threat was neutralized.

Vik, along with his survivors, quickly sprinted to the Nate's along with a lot of other soldiers.

As man after man tried to make it to the roof but died in the process, Natalia panicked. She would be next.

Finally, it was her turn. She started up the ladder, praying that her death would be quick. It wouldn't, at least if executing the defenseless American was bad Karma.

* * *

**Woo. Another chapter gone and out of the park! I'm just going to take a few liberties with the script and pacing of the missions, as it's hard to develop characters when things are going as fast as they are in MW2. Anyway, I'm kind of trying not to make Jenna and Natalia absolute angels, as you can tell, Jenna's slept around and Natalia is slowly starting to succumb to cowardice, executions of innocents aside. Sorry if I don't focus on Natalia as much as I should, I kind of get carried away with the Rangers because the mission in-game is from their POV. Anyway, I want to hear from anyone reading- ANYONE- I AM DESPARATE. *Ahem.* Hope you liked it. **


	4. Face Down

**If you don't mind, I'm going to reply to some reviews I got, up here. Skip ahead to the story if you're not interested.**

**First off, I really want to thank you for responding. I can't bear writing and not getting feedback, as I have no idea if people are liking it, not liking it, or reading it at all even.**

**Clara- Glad you liked it! As for my grammar, well, I don't like to brag at all (Actually I hate it), but I'm really good at that subject in school, so…**

**Jay2658: "Not half bad?" Well, that means I need to work harder XD! Anyway, I'm glad it got better as you went. I kind of want to reward the readers who decide to push past the first chapter or so, y'know?**

**Anyway, on to the story! (Is it just me or are these chapters getting longer?)**

* * *

Pvt. James Ramirez winced as he felt the shockwave of another Claymore mine going off behind his back. It threw his aim off, and he accidentally missed his target.

Meanwhile, Pvt. Natalia Petrova was almost at the top of the ladder when the mine went off. She froze, terrified of what was above.

"I swear, Petrova, we'll win the war before you make it to the top!" a soldier jeered from below.

She flipped her finger at him and continued up just to prove him wrong. Peeking over the top of the building, she could see a handful of Rangers, but no one had noticed her yet. She stepped onto the building, instinctively crouching and raising her assault rifle at the first guy she saw.

James quickly scanned around and noticed a Russian coming off the ladder. The Claymores were gone? He grunted as he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his leg and realized he was hit. As he struggled to pull out his M9, Foley had a flashbang ready. He was planning to use it on the soldiers inside the building, but he turned at the last minute and tossed it at the enemy soldier.

Natalia squeezed her eyes shut as the damned thing went off right in front of her. Stumbling around, she couldn't hear the voices of her comrades telling her she was going the wrong way over the ringing in her ears.

Foley tried to suppress his laugh as the VDV trooper walked right off the building and fell to the ground with a satisfying "THUD!"

"Private Moore, Corporal Dunn, gimme a sitrep on Raptor, over!" he radioed as James decided to ignore the smarting wound in his thigh.

"Raptor is secure and stable," Dunn responded as he watched Moore do her job.

Two BTRs were still threatening the Rangers, and some asshat with a UAV was firing missiles everywhere. James tried not to roll his eyes as Sgt. Foley ordered him, and him only, to go and secure the UAV.

"I'm sending part of the squad to help you out! Go!" he heard on his way out. Thank God.

* * *

Natalia woke up inside a house that was being used as a makeshift field hospital. Apparently, the big joke was that _Pvt. Petrova the paratrooper was pushed off the protruding edge of a building._ Added alliterative appeal was a thing among this group, it seemed.

"What is this bull? I should be out there, fighting!" she protested.

"I guess you're fine. It doesn't seem like you sustained any injuries at all," the medic replied calmly.

An explosion suddenly went off outside, and the building rocked. Poor Natalia fell off her cot and landed face down. She overheard the radio, though. Some American managed to slaughter everyone in the building where the UAV control rig, take the UAV, and blow up the BTR support. Apparently, he also had bad aim.

"Hunter 2-1, work on your aim. That missile totally missed," Overlord drawled.

"Sorry, sir. Ramirez seems to have a bit of trouble getting used to a Cyrillic keyboard," Foley replied.

* * *

"See ya," Natalia mumbled as she picked up her AKS-74 and went out the door.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you!" an officer outside shouted, pointing at her. "Listen, we found out where the HVI is located. Take this laser designator and paint the building where he is, it's the diner!"

"Y-yes sir?" Natalia said, slightly confused. Just got out of the field hospital and already taking orders. Wait. Where was her _squad_? Where was _Vik_?

"Wait a second, sir, I need to find my squad," she apologized, going back into the house and locating the medic.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but do you know where Sergeant Petrov from Poacher 1-3 is?"

The medic knew exactly why she was asking, and took off her helmet solemnly.

"He went down after dragging you to safety. He took a couple of hits on the way blocking the bullets," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I understand," Natalia nodded, trying to suppress her tears. She turned around and kicked the door open, stomping up to the officer who had just ordered her to lase the target.

"I'm on it, sir."

* * *

"Enemy fast movers! TAKE COVER!" Foley yelled at the top of his lungs as two MIGs flew over the Nate's and bombed it. The Russians had managed to find them and attack.

Meanwhile, Pvt. Moore and Cpl. Dunn heard the scream of the jets and the blasts of the bombs from the meat locker.

"2-1 Actual, you still there?" he asked, listening intently to the Sarge's response.

He looked up at Jenna Moore.

"Here's the scoop. We're moving Raptor to Burger Town, but Ramirez is injured and needs help securing it," he said, averting his eyes from Jenna's as concern slowly crept into her face. "We're compromised, and I need you to carry, drag, -_whatever the hell you gotta do_- to Burger Town. You up for that?"

Jenna nodded in determination. She was going to do this, as it would make things easier for her friend.

"Come on," she grunted, trying to pull Raptor over her shoulder.

"For the love of-" she muttered, taking off her load-bearing vest, wrapping it around the unconscious HVI, and putting her own helmet on his head as a finishing touch. There was a handle on the back of the MOLLE vest and she would drag him to Burger Town. "Hope you don't mind your suit getting dirty."

* * *

The VDV officer spotted through his binoculars an American moving the HVI. If he was important to them, then he had to be eliminated.

"What a wimp," he commented, noticing that the guy was dragging him by the handle of a combat vest. "Wait, the soldier doesn't have a helmet. It's a _chick_."

"All, right, guys," he stood up, facing the group of stragglers standing around him. "That guy in the suit and MOLLE vest is our man. Taking out the soldier moving him would be easy, but there are so many enemies that another could just take her place. We need to get the man alive, so watch your fire out there."

_Ok, maybe we could kill her but she's kinda cute, _the officer thought to himself, letting out a small laugh.

Natalia nodded and jammed a magazine into her weapon. Game time.

The soldiers rapidly filed out from cover and took up positions to suppress the enemies there. Natalia quickly dashed from cover to cover, trying to flank the Americans and get to the soldier moving the HVI. Luckily, the Rangers hadn't noticed, and were trying to stop the Russians.

"Keep these guys off me!" Sgt. Foley barked as he reloaded, not noticing the soldier sneaking up.

Halfway through the move, Jenna was pretty winded already. Raptor was one heavy mofo. She saw Ramirez in the doorway waving to her, SCAR in one hand. Out of nowhere, though, his mouth dropped and he pointed a shaking finger towards her. Or… _behind her?_

Natalia swiftly swooped up behind Jenna, and raising her rifle, smacked the American's brunette head with the stock. Jenna's face hit the pavement, and as she rolled to the side, she saw a knife come down and bounce off the pavement. Lucky.

The Russian suddenly cried out and clutched her arm, instantly recognizing the bite of a 9mm round from Jenna's M9. She fell to the ground and waited to be finished off. But nothing happened.

James had dragged Jenna into the Burger Town, and the other men had already carried Raptor in. Natalia's own comrades pulled her out from the open in the same way.

* * *

"This blows," Jenna grumbled, rubbing the back of her head. AK butts really sucked. "I can still watch Raptor, though."

"Good," Foley replied, lightly shoving her into the meat locker and closing the door. "Squad, I've made it to the Burger Town meat locker. Raptor is inside and secure. The door is shut - you guys keep Ivan out. Friendly convoy is oscar mike."

* * *

"That bitch…" Natalia trailed off as a medic patched up her arm. More and more of her comrades were trying to storm the Burger Town but were blown to bits by missiles from above. "Hand me that radio, willya?"

"Sure thing, Petrova," a private mumbled from somewhere, coming up and handing her a walkie-talkie.

"Thanks. I'm going to hang back and tell our guys where to shoot. This is Poacher 3-1. Be advised, our UAV has been hijacked and is being used against us. Any anti-air capable units in this sector, please respond," she radioed.

"Roger that, Poacher 3-1. This is Fowler 1-1. We'll have two choppers split off from our formation and assist you. We'll take out the UAV and provide close air support. And, by the way 3-1, you have a cute voice, can I have your number?" the radio crackled back.

Natalia giggled, flattered by the guy on the other side of the radio.

"When this is over, handsome. Just tell those pilots to get their asses over here," she replied.

"ETA five minutes."

After about six minutes of carnage later, a missile slammed into the UAV and blew it up, as promised.

"Someone just took out our Predator! Be advised, the Predator is offline! I repeat, the Predator is offline!" Ramirez snapped in frustration.

"Sorry we're late to the party. Had to grab vodka, darling," the pilot, smooth as hell like usual, said over comms. "Confirm hit on target. How copy?"

"Solid copy Fowler 1-1. Be advised, we have enemy anti-air, take them out before they take you out," Natalia echoed. But before 1-1 could reply, a Stinger missile collided with the chopper.

"дерьмо! Fowler 1-2 is down, I say again, 1-2 is down!" 1-1 swore.

* * *

"Hot damn on a plate!" Dunn cheered as his Stinger killed a chopper.

"Hunter 2-1, relay from Goliath One: you got an enemy helicopter loaded for bear approaching your area, over," Overlord notified.

"Eyes up! Enemy gunship comin' in hot!"

It didn't take Cpl. Dunn yelling for Pvt. James Ramirez to know that there was another Havoc coming in. He instinctively raised his launcher and fired it at the bird, taking it down.

"F-Fowler 1-1? Come in, do you read me?" Natalia pleaded after seeing him go down. "Sonofabitch."

A soldier came from the direction of the huge firefight, obviously dazed. He was covered in blood splattered all over his face.

"We l-lost our s-squad leader. We're all alone n-now."

* * *

"The convoy's here! Everyone on me! We're getting the hell outta here! Let's go, let's go! Ramirez! The convoy is just to the south of Burger Town, get your ass over here! Move!" Sgt. Foley ordered.

Jenna came and told James to come with her, and gave him support as he hopped over to the Humvee. He took a seat in the back for once so she could fix up his leg.

Jenna wasn't paying attention to the radio convo, but did hear the last thing Foley said.

"Squad, we still got 2,000 civvies in Arcadia. If you got a family there, it's your lucky day - we're gonna go save their lives!"

"HELL YEAH!" she cheered as she checked her M4 lying next to her. She didn't have family there, but by God she'd get those damn Ivans out of their neighborhood.

* * *

Natalia took charge. Someone had to do it, the squad leader was dead. She walked up and looked the men around her, pointing in the direction of Arcadia.

"Listen up, ladies. For every civilian we lost in Moscow, we're going to take a _thousand_ Americans here," she raised his voice confidently. "And no one – no one – is going to stop us until the United States is burned to the ground and its soil stained with blood!"

Jenna could have sworn that she heard celebration over the sound of the convoy. Didn't matter, she had James to take care of.

* * *

**Another one bites the dust! Another one bites the dust! And another one gone and – all right I'll shut up. Did you expect Miss Petrova to have some kind of relationship with that pilot? Silly goose, everyone knows that main characters rarely have relationships with background characters unless they're part of some kind of tragic backstory or said character is using said relationship to their advantage… Anyway, it took four chapters just to finish the mission of Wolverines! but I'll just justify it and say that I used most of it for character development. I'm trying not to use too much game dialogue, so tell me if I do because I feel bad for making you read something that you can play in-game. Also, I have a few questions. How do you like the way I arrange switches between US and Russian POVs. Is it too confusing? Would you rather have me put one of those line thingies between each switch? I try not to do that if the same event is occurring on both sides simultaneously, but if it's an issue I'll gladly fix it. Also, would you prefer me referring to characters by first or last name? I like using first names to kind of give that essence of familiarity, but sometimes it's confusing when you hear someone's name outta nowhere and wonder who I was referring to. Finally, I like feedback. No, scratch that. I'm addicted to it. I want to hear from people so I can improve, y'know? Ignore me, I'm just a shameless review whore XD**

**Oh, and **_**yes, **_**the title of this chapter is a reference to "Face Down" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.**


	5. Воздушно-десантные войска

_Воздушно-десантные войска_

_Earlier that year_

_Pvt. Natalia Petrova_

_Russian VDV_

_Russia_

* * *

Natalia was a fresh recruit when the war broke out and she was deployed to the United States. She was drafted into the Russian military as soon as she was 18 years old, as per the conscription active ever since the Second Russian Civil War.

* * *

In the aftermath of 2011's war, the Ultranationalist Party had successfully taken over Russia, despite incompetent leadership. Their leader, Imran Zakhaev, was killed by the British and Americans, and as a result they were hostile toward the West. The Party intended to challenge the US and its allies, but Russia wasn't at its best stage of power before the war, nonetheless after at least half of the entire country's military was destroyed. Military spending skyrocketed to a level rivaling the United States, but there was still a shortage of manpower. This is where conscription came in. The government drafted every capable 18-year old, whether they be male or female.

* * *

Natalia Petrova had always dreamed of growing up and becoming a pilot. Anything involving flying. When the draft came about, when she was about 13 or so, she didn't think too much of it. After all, she could be a fighter pilot or something like that in the Russian military. As long as she didn't have to be on the ground fighting. Soon enough, however, her fortune turned for the worse.

During the war, Ultranationalists managed to capture a major airbase early in their campaign. They had control over some of Russia's best aircraft. Even better, many pilots were children of former Soviet aces, and they were on the Ultranationalist side, hoping to restore Russia to its former glory. As a result, the air force was fine and didn't need any more recruits.

When Natalia was 18, she was drafted into the military. She had hoped to join the Air Force, but she was absolutely devastated when they broke the news to her: they didn't need any more pilots. In fact, they had such an overload that most of them were attached to units with aircraft but low on manpower. So Natalia went for the next best thing she could find.

Airborne.

* * *

Here she was, a brand new VDV private, and she even had the _telnyashka _(That light blue striped undershirt) and blue beret to prove it. On her 19th birthday, she happened to be on leave. Proudly donning her urban red uniform (For some reason, they wore these with the blue beret), she went out to get _absolutely wasted _with her friends. Irresponsible, especially for a soldier off-duty? Definitely. Underage? Well, there was no drinking age in Russia. Still fun anyway. After all, her friends did it too.

As she walked into her favorite bar, she was met by an interesting surprise. It seemed that plenty of Russian military servicemembers went there too. And of course, they noticed. In her class, she was that quiet blonde girl over there in the corner who no one talked to.

"Uhh, hey guys!" she grinned, opening her arms.

"Pfft. Whatever," she heard from someone in the bar.

"All right then."

She and her friends got to work getting drunk. Well, at least her friends. Pvt. Petrova was too goody-two shoes to drink. Well, Valentina was already slurring her speech, Diana was stumbling everywhere (and knocking over drinks left and right), and Anya…well, no one knew where she was, but a pair of legs were sticking out from under a pool table.

"Hey, cutie," drawled some guy, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Wanna…URRRP! …Go for a round in the bathroom?"

"Gross, hell no! Let go of my hand, Yблюдок!" Natalia spat back.

"You're coming with me," he said, dragging her.

An intoxicated Russian soldier suddenly fell to the floor, writhing and screaming. He had just experienced the unpleasant sensation of a foot in the balls.

"What did you just do, сука!?" a man, presumably his friend, shouted as he slapped Natalia in the face.

"All right, моргала выколю, падла!" she shot back, picking up a bottle and smashing it over the guy's head.

Next thing, another person came behind her and twisted her arm behind her back, but before things got nasty, someone stood up on a table and fired a pistol into the air.

"All of you! Knock it off right now!" he grunted. Everyone returned to what they were doing. But from that day on, pretty much everyone hated Pvt. Natalia Petrova because she whacked the most popular guy in the head for no reason.

* * *

It was a few weeks later, and Natalia was on base, staying in the barracks. There was going to be a live-fire exercise that day. Basically, everyone would parachute from a plane, land, and proceed to storm and clear a building full of American infantry represented by cutouts.

The night before, that same popular guy, Peter, tried to make a move again.

Natalia was sleeping in her bed when she was suddenly woken up by a guy standing over her.

"Let's go. You, me, locker room," he whispered.

His request was met with a fist to the gut. Peter tried his hardest not to yell and wake up everyone. Holding up a middle finger, he dragged himself back to the men's barracks, swearing revenge.

The next morning, an alarm suddenly went on, signaling the start of the drill. Each paratrooper instinctively geared up and headed to their respective aircraft, separating into chalks.

It was becoming winter, and this being Russia, everyone's balls were beginning to freeze off. As a result, every body of water started forming a thin layer of ice, to the point it seemed solid, but in reality was paper-thin.

Natalia's plane shook from the wind. It was seriously chilly. The door was open, and everyone was waiting for their signal to jump. The aircraft was currently over a frozen lake, which was surrounded by a few soldiers just in case a jump went bad and someone ended up in it. Which was just about to happen.

Another friend of Peter's was standing behind Natalia, who would be first to jump. He proceeded to hook her up to the static line and shove her out of the bird, her parachute immediately deploying.

"The FUUUUuuuuuu…..!?" she screamed as she fell from the aircraft.

She fell into the lake, getting tangled in her sopping wet chute, trying not to drown. Unfortunately, as she crashed through the ice, the cold water triggered her shock, causing her to inhale a bunch of ice-cold lake water.

The medical personnel immediately proceeded to drag her out, and the entire exercise had to be cancelled because that idiot Petrova had to jump before the signal.

Natalia couldn't help but slightly – ever so slightly – enjoy her deployment. She was slowly regaining the respect she lost back home. Looked like the attack was the best thing to happen to her yet. Looked. It would slowly become the worst nightmarish living hell of an existence, soon enough.

* * *

**What's that, you may ask? "There's no combat or action in this chapter!" Well, **_**shut up.**_** No one asked for your opinion, jerkface. Anyway, we get to explore some of Pvt. Natalia Petrova's backstory because ****the author feels guilty for focusing on Jenna during the past chapters**** I need to establish that my characters aren't liked very much. Well, in Natalia's case, for no reason… yet. You'll see how she begins to deserve her treatment. Anyway, sorry if you didn't want a "drama" chapter, because these'll be part of the story too. Besides, they're kinda fun, aren't they? As usual, I like to hear your opinions ****because I'm a review whore**** because I really need to improve.**

* * *

**Translations:**

моргала выколю, падла- "I'll poke your eyes out, f***er"

сука- B*tch

Yблюдок- bastard


	6. Firebase Phoenix

**So, I realized that Pvt. Jenna Moore is a combat medic. At the age of 18. So I panicked a bit, thinking that you had to be a doctor to be a medic in the US Army. Well, according to a bit of research, you just get advanced training after basic as opposed to having to go to medical school. If I'm wrong, correct me, mm'kay? Also, sorry for the lack of updates. School and stuff, you know? Finals coming up this week and I'm not looking forward to them. I'm going to negate the updates to weekly updates if you don't mind.**

**UPDATE: I just graduated, it's summer for me now. I have much more time to write. You know what that means, kids.**

_Cleaning Up the Sandbox_

_A few months ago_

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

_US Army 3__rd__ Infantry Division_

_Afghanistan_

Pvt. Jenna Moore could have sworn that the US should have gotten out of Afghanistan when she was deployed there. However, after the Middle East got even nastier in 2011, Uncle Sam decided to play in the sandbox a bit longer. Basically, after Al-Asad's nuke went off and took out 30,000 men in the blink of an eye, the United States hit back hard… _real hard._ They decided to fight dirty, bombing what was left of the OpFor into bits and not giving a damn about collateral damage. Said OpFor ended up being supported by the Russians, and they retreated to nearby countries, and became a thorn in the side of NATO forces.

_Firebase Phoenix, Afghanistan_

Jenna squinted as she stepped off the C-130 Hercules, squinting at the harsh desert sun. She was a brand-new combat medic, part of the wave of women joining the military after Congress lifted the Combat Exclusion Act. The US Army Rangers wanted to test the waters a bit, and that started with getting a female medic into the unit.

So far, it wasn't working out that well.

"Hey, who's the new ho on base?" a soldier jeered, his buddies snickering around him.

"Screw off, Allen," said one of the guys standing near him. "You want her to remember this when your rear needs fixing?"

"Ooh, look at the chivalrous Knight James Ramirez, sticking up for the maidens ever since he was 10. How many times you get beat up in elementary?" Allen teased, as he walked away with the rest of the men. Ramirez shook his head and approached Moore.

"So, uhh, you're the new medic, right? No, that was a stupid question," he grinned, slapping his forehead. "Nice to meet you, I'm Private Ramirez, but you can just call me James. Looking forward to working with you, Private…"

"…Moore. Jenna Moore," she nodded back.

Suddenly, another figure walked up and put his arm around the man's neck.

"Aww, ain't that cute, Jim. You have a crush on the new girl. Oh… you must be Private Moore. I'm Corporal Dunn, I'm the tour guide for this dump. But it's not just any dump. It's _our _dump," Dunn introduced himself.

"So, I was told to find a… S-sergeant F-foley?" Jenna stuttered.

"He's busy. Showing Afghan soldiers how to _not _swing their sticks from the hip. That's his biggest pet peeve," Dunn replied.

As per the customs, the Corporal showed the newbie around the base. Past the range, where the Rangers show you how to take down a target, the basketball court where future NBA players Keating and Casey were always playing, the motor pool (AKA "Pimp Your Humvee), and finally the Pit. Was it a bad GI Joe reference? Or possibly some guy with smelly armpits managed to kill the cutouts with his stench. No one knew why it was called that, but it was a pretty crazy course to run.

"Aand… here we are. Foley wants you to run this bitch. Of course, he wants everyone to do it upon getting here, you know, show off their skills. He can see right through you, find your weaknesses, your strengths," Dunn concluded. He suddenly raised his voice. "Hey Mom! Your new daughter has arrived!"

"All right, Dunn. I'll take it from here," an African-American man with a stern yet familiar voice called out. "All right, Moore. I'm Sergeant Foley. What I want you to do is take a weapon from those crates, a primary and a sidearm. Remember, switching to your sidearm is faster than reloading your piece."

"Sir, you sound like Captain Anderson from Mass Effect," Jenna chuckled, sifting through the weapons. She selected an HK MP5K and a Glock 18 machine pistol, a small but deadly pair of weapons. They might have only fired 9mm Parabellum rounds, but their rate of fire gave them a mean bite at close range.

She rounded the corner, readying her submachine gun. As she began to dash in, the slipped on a rock and hit her head against the wall. So much for a good start. Her vision a bit blurry, ears ringing, and a bit of unexplainable blood splatter all over her vision (she wasn't wearing goggles), she lifted her piece and engaged the first three targets, dropping two but managing to miss one. Frustrated, she ran up and kicked it over, and surprisingly, the hit registered.

"Nice one, move up!" a voice over loudspeakers encouraged.

The next batch had a civilian, and this stupid blood splatter was beginning to clear. Like, evaporate. Now with clear vision, Jenna sprayed the handful of targets, civvie included.

"Sorry!" she apologized to the cutout, sprinting past.

The building full of enemies was easy to dispatch, but the stairs inside… well, those were going to be a problem. At the very top, a random bad guy popped out of the wall and smacked Jenna in the face, startling the private and making her tumble down the stairs.

"Damn blood splatter!" she snapped, yanking out her knife and throwing it at the cutout from the bottom of the steps. The mysterious red blocked her vision, and the knife bounced off and came to rest at her feet.

"Sonofabitch!"

Chattering rapidly, the G18 in her hand knocked the cutout back into place.

Onto the next part. A roof full of people. That one was cleared with a bit of a struggle, but it was done.

Jenna went through the rest of the course after jumping off the building, alternating between pistol and submachine gun.

"Dammit," she cursed, yanking the mag out of her MP5K and shoving a new one in.

This run would have a bit of a twist, though. Usually, at the end, there's a part where you sprint to the finish. However, this time, a collapsed soldier lay on the ground. This was a test to see if the female soldier could drag a male comrade to safety. Fortunately, Jenna was not like some of the other recruits who couldn't even lift their weapons. She was fit enough to bring this guy into cover if needed, and she did so with ease, jogging back to the start.

"Damn, Moore," Foley murmured. "Sister, that was the worst run I've seen, _ever_…"

Jenna's heart sank. She sucked at being a soldier, and she didn't want to be kicked out and sent to a regular ground-pounding unit.

"…but your job isn't primarily to pull triggers. It's to help out people, and that last part where you pulled Allen's sorry ass back to cover…" Foley trailed, cracking up and rolling around on the ground.

Embarrassment came over Pvt. Joseph Allen's face as Pvt. Moore glanced back at him. The gal he just made fun of was _insanely tough! _To make things weirder, it _turned him on. _

When things settled down and she settled in her tent, Jenna kicked back and pulled out her iPod, ready to relax.

Pvt. Allen came in and plopped himself down in a chair across from her.

"Huh. Here to keep making fun of me?" she said, fiddling with a bobby pin.

"Actually, no. I kinda wanted to say sorry for being such an asshole," Joseph admitted.

"Yeah? Tell it to the other guys. I've gotten way much grief all day long."

"This is my way of apologizing," Allen said, taking off his regulation tan T-shirt and unzipping his pants.

"Hell no! Dude, my rep will go down like a Blackhawk if I do this!"

Joseph had a plan Bravo. He knew Jenna was underage but really would be interested in the bottle of booze he had behind his back. Curiosity kills the cat.

"Well… I'd be willing to try some of that stuff…"

The next morning, Jenna woke up and _randomly decided_ to wear her sleeves down and her collar up as per regulations. For no reason. Ha. Ha.

_That was an awkward night, _she thought in her head, stepping out and jogging with Ramirez to the HQ. They had orders today and said orders involved hunting the OpFor.

The convoy consisted of a handful of Humvees heading into a nearby town to perform the usual routine of raiding houses suspected of being OpFor strongholds. It was relatively easy compared to the previous occupying force, the Taliban. At least the OpFor played fair and wore clothing distinct from their civilian counterparts.

Pvt. James Ramirez was up on the minigun and Jenna was down in the back seat. The ride was brief, but the ensuing firefight wouldn't be.

The Rangers found themselves in the middle of a flat area surrounded by buildings. After crossing a bridge moments earlier, they saw a couple of guards but didn't engage them due to ROE (Rules of Engagement). They must have warned their colleagues, as the Humvees passed the field, an enemy appeared with an RPG and blasted the vehicle in the front of the convoy

"CONTACT!" the driver yelled as everyone leaped out. Ramirez spooled up his minigun and provided precious suppressive fire as Moore scanned for injured. The driver, who proceeded to take his M4A1 and open fire, let out a yell and crumpled to the ground. He had taken a couple of hits.

The medic did her job, patching him up and keeping him behind cover. She wanted to shoot back, but all she had was a miserable little M9 handgun. Taking the rifle from the driver, she answered the AK47's chatter with the M4's bark.

"EAT THIS, BITCH!" she shouted, firing the M203 grenade launcher indiscriminately.

Pvt. Wade creeped up to Ramirez, tapping him on the soldier and telling him, "Heads up. We're pulling out, we're gonna try and evac as many of us as we can before we're trapped in."

"Hooah," he responded, passing the news to Moore.

The soldiers in the rear, still able to recover, began to get in their Humvees, turn around, and drive away. Ramirez, Moore, and Wade all ended up in the same vehicle.

"So much for being HUNTER 2-1, huh. More like prey," Ramirez deadpanned.

"_Seid ihr das Essen? Nein, wir sind der Jäger," _Moore quipped.

The short little exchange was interrupted, very rudely, by the bridge exploding behind them. The rest of the Rangers were trapped, and had to be rescued. But first the remaining troops had to switch out with more capable men and head back in to evacuate their comrades.

Upon arriving back at Firebase Phoenix, the Humvees all parked everywhere and began bringing out their wounded. Jenna headed to the medical tent to assist in their care as fresh soldiers hauled ass to get BCT One out of the Red Zone.

"That ended a lot quicker than it started," Ramirez muttered to Wade as they went to the medical tent to check on a few buddies.

"So, you seem to be good friends with the medic," Wade said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah. I kinda felt bad for her, considering the hell everyone's given her. Besides, she's actually pretty cool behind the whole _incompetent sissy _thing she's got going. You don't buy into that, do ya?" Ramirez turned his head and nodded. "Then again, it's all probably me being too soft. I was her at one point too, minus the whole slut-shaming thing everyone started the moment she showed up."

"Nah, I think she just doesn't wanna act like a prima-donna or anything. People don't like that too much. But they still don't really like her anyway, so I don't see the difference there."

"Well, might as well be cool with the person who's going to plug the holes in your body, dude or dudette."

"Yeah. Speaking of holes, um… I kind of want to, well…" Wade whistled and motioned with his index finger going into a ring made by his hand. "Maybe it's the whole _desert fox _thing. When a soldier is in the sandbox and hasn't seen a gal for a while, he either does what Navy folks do, gets it on with the nearest thing he can get to a female, or is a really dedicated, perfect, piousCatholic."

"Dude, no offense, that's really messed up. I don't really think she likes people taking advantage of her like that."

"Well, I'll just ask then. If not, well I have a _gun_," Wade grinned.

Ramirez, understandably pissed, shoved Wade into the dust. Not very common for one of the nicest guys around on base. He just never liked being picked on, and he didn't want that to happen to anyone else in his unit either.

Wade went on and indeed scored it with the medic. Jenna went on to sleep with the men a good few times during her deployment, further cementing her already nasty reputation. And yes, they got her drunk each time. She went down easily. Only Allen and Wade got it, but the rumors spread like wildfire.

That was the first and the last deployment in the sandbox before Ivan landed in America and changed things forever, at least for Pvt. Moore.

**There goes a chapter. Took me a while to write. Jenna's a hoe, ain't she? No, just kidding. I didn't want my characters being perfect at all. Everyone has flaws, you know? Just tell me if I'm being too anti-Sue. Plus. Jenna's problem is a problem that female soldiers deployed can face and probably have faced before. I'm pretty fond of the **_**truth in television **_**trope. Well, as usual I want to hear from you people. How you liked it, or more importantly, **_**why it's so damn terrible.**_


	7. Exodus

**Sorry for not updating! I've been really **_**really**_** busy lately. Instead of giving you guys a whole bunch of bad excuses I'll just write this thing, all right?**

* * *

_Exodus_

_August 13, 2016_

_Pvt. Jenna Moore_

_Attached to 1__st__ Bn, 75__th__ Rangers Regiment_

_Northeastern Virginia, USA_

The convoy had dropped off the Rangers so they could split up and accomplish various objectives. Pvt. Jenna Moore was tasked with deploying on the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters evacuating civilians and providing medical attention to injured people. Sgt. Foley, Cpl. Dunn, and Pvt. Ramirez, who she would otherwise be fighting beside, had a different mission to carry out. They had to take out anti-aircraft artillery which threatened Moore and the evac choppers.

James Ramirez was busy lasing targets for Honey Badger, a Stryker IFV, to engage. He noticed a civilian car driving madly down the road towards the Rangers, dropping its cargo, running over a few people (Rangers and Russians alike) and finally hitting a barricade, inexplicably exploding.

_I don't think physics works that way, _Ramirez thought as he pointed his laser at another target and ordered the Stryker to open fire.

* * *

Pvt. Natalia Petrova had rallied the remnants from the attack earlier and met up with the Russian forces whose aim was to prevent evacuations of American civilians. Upon the brass hearing of how she took leadership of her fellow green colleagues, they decided to give her a field promotion to a Corporal.

She listened intently on the radio to figure out where she could set up an ambush. The Americans probably were trying to get to the anti-aircraft positions so the evacuations could actually make it out of the area.

"Be advised, any units in the area. This is Tiger 4-1, we are taking heavy casualties from an armore- DAMMIT GET DOWN GET DOWN!" Natalia heard. Another voice came on, the person on the other end probably was hit and his comrade got a hold of the radio.

"Listen, we have a Stryker armored vehicle and some enemy soldiers assaulting our position. Anyone who can hear this, they are heading east and if they manage to get past us then there will be no one between them and our AA."

"Tiger 4-1, Tiger 4-1, this is Poacher 3-1. My unit is available and we can provide support," Petrova responded.

"Negative, 3-1. We can't hold this position much longer, you'll be too late anyway. We're falling back to security checkpoint _Leonid. _If you can meet us there we'll be damn grateful."

"Roger that, Tiger 4-1. We have possession of a sentry gun and can assist you, over."

She turned to the men standing around. She took out a map and showed everyone what was about to happen.

"All right, here's the plan. We're going to meet up with Tiger 4-1 at this checkpoint. There, we can intercept the enemy Stryker team and stop them from killing our AA. Got it?" Natalia explained.

"Yes ma'am!" the crowd cheered.

* * *

Jenna hit her head on the Blackhawk chopper for the fifteenth time. The crew kept taking fire from Ivan's double-A and as a result had to make some really violent maneuvers to not get shot down. In fact, the two other evacuation choppers were taken out already.

"Geez, hope Foley gets rid of those damn guns already, no telling how many concussions we'll get today," Jenna complained.

"Heads up Moore, we're landing at evac site Delta. We have some injured there who take priority," the crew chief nodded.

The pilot expertly guided the helicopter to the makeshift landing zone as Jenna jumped out. Barely anyone made it to the evacuation zone, and it was pretty depressing.

"All of you are injured?" she asked the small crowd.

"Moore, we can't take that many," the crew chief frowned. "Get the most severely injured person here, we need to dust off soon."

Jenna grinned and said "Screw off. I volunteer to stay down here and help out until the next chopper comes by. Go radio HQ for a CH-47 Chinook."

She turned to the civilians.

"All right, anyone here who _isn't_ hurt, I need you to get on that helicopter there so you can get out alive."

"What are you doing, Private!?"

"It's obvious everyone here is injured. I can take care of them myself. But it's a better idea to fly out the people who have the best chance of survival, sir."

A young couple stepped up, apparently the only people who weren't physically affected that much. "We'll go, ma'am."

Pvt. Moore waved as the UH-60 took off and headed for base. It was good to know that some people were making it out aliv-

The aircraft's tail rotor burst with a **BOOM! **and spiraled out of control, crashing into a house a few buildings away and exploding into a fiery wreck, smoke billowing from it. The

"No…" she whimpered, her voice trailing off. The anger swelled in her chest, coming out in an outburst that in hindsight wasn't appropriate for the kids nearby. "SONS OF BITCHES, THEY'LL PAY!"

* * *

"Sentry gun is active!" a Russian engineer shouted. Cpl. Petrova and her men had set up at the checkpoint just as the Stryker was approaching. The gun spooled up and sent lead flying towards the Rangers trying to thin them out. Natalia spotted a guy who didn't get dropped by the sentry and fired a few rounds into his face.

"Aww crap, they're pushing us back!" a soldier panicked. He decided to turn around and run away.

"Hey, Petrova! Deserter, what are you doing about it?" a sergeant yelled. "Well? You going to shoot him?"

"Hell no, that's not happening, sir!"

He took his own weapon and thrust the barrel into Natalia's neck, growling, "Do it. Not one step backwards."

Not really having a choice, she raised her handgun and killed the deserter. While all of this happened, the Rangers had cleared the nearby buildings and were ready to move through the checkpoint. Ramirez pointed his laser at both Natalia and her superior and ordered the Stryker to open fire.

Noticing the red dot on Cpl. Petrova's face, the sergeant leaped in the way of the bullets and pushed Natalia down as the .50 caliber rounds tore right through the concrete barrier, his body armor, his torso, and his organs. Of course, the bullets plowed on and came out the other side of the mangled corpse. The armored vehicle then proceeded to drive right through the checkpoint.

"Dammit! Guys, hurry up and RPG that asshole!"

A barrage of rockets flew at the IFV, pounding it into a smoldering hunk of metal.

"Honey Badger is down, I say again, Honey Badger is down!" Sgt. Foley shouted as the burning crew pounded on the walls, screaming. "Be advised Overlord, we have passed Checkpoint Lima and are now proceeding on foot into Arcadia, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Hunter 2-1. I have new orders for you. This comes down from the top, over," Overlord replied.

"Overlord, send it."

"Your team is to divert to 4677 Brookmere Road after you have eliminated the triple-A. Check back with me once you've completed your main objective."

"Busting our ass to get these guns, now we got to do this?" Dunn complained.

"Too right, Corporal."

What looked like an AC-130 suddenly went down in flames and crashed in the general area of the address they were given.

"Hey, look. I bet that's an AC-130, man," Dunn said.

"No way. They don't fly during the day, that sucker's a C-130," Ramirez corrected him.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Jenna (a Private of all people) had taken control of the entire evac situation, bringing out civvies whenever the AA was busy with some other aircraft. She noticed a C-130 go down and had gotten the last few people out on a CH-46 Chinook in that short window of time when the guns weren't killing civilians. Wait. What happened to the guns anyway? They weren't going off that much anymore.

An MH-6 Little Bird landed, and a few special ops guys stepped off. They were donning Multicam and looked like they were Tier 1 operators.

One of them approached, pulling down his balaclava and taking off his goggles. Jenna thought he was really cute… What the hell? No time for that.

"You Private Moore?" he asked as she nodded. "I'm 'Frost,' Metal 0-4, Delta Force. Listen, your buddies helped the artillery kill the AA, you need to rendezvous with them ASAP, so we're giving you a ride."

"Why are you guys the ones bringing me in, sir?"

"Uhh," he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll put it this way, we're the most… conveniently available at the moment. Anyway, I'll brief you on the way there."

"Come on, we gotta dust off! Frost, she doesn't wanna give you her number you dipshit, hurry up and get on!" a soldier, presumably his teammate, jeered from the Little Bird.

Frost blushed a bit (well, underneath the mask he pulled back up) and brought Jenna to the chopper.

* * *

Pvt. Kozin was very winded. He had, after all, had to sprint his ass to the wreckage of the C-130 before the Americans did. So, opening the fridge in the house he was in, he grabbed a carton of milk and tried to pour it through his gas mask. Milk all over the place. When that didn't work, he started to pry it off.

He never got it off.

The Rangers had already arrived, and quickly shot him down. Dunn chuckled a bit.

He suddenly heard someone walk behind them. He whipped around and pointed his M9 at the unknown person, yelling, "Drop it, BITCH!"

Jenna stepped back, her arms instantly raising in the air. "Geez, Dunn, it's just me. Calm your nips."

"Moore! It's nice to see you, but we need to check on this HVI. Challenge is 'Icepick,' countersign 'Phoenix,'" Foley whispered, stepping up.

Upon moving upstairs, something was evidently wrong. A tattooed Russian soldier lay dead at the door to the panic room, and the HVI himself slumped at the back of the room with a Desert Eagle and a briefcase. As Moore checked the bodies, Ramirez checked out the surroundings. A chessboard on a table with a teddy bear in one seat caught his eye.

"Huh. King's in checkmate, the bear won," he muttered.

"Yo, Dunn, Foley. Look at this guy. He's out-of-place if you ask me," Moore said.

"Yeah, those tats mean he's no average soldier. No insignia either," Dunn replied, eyeing the corpse.

"I want photos for G2, Dunn. Ramirez, get that briefcase. What's left of it," Foley ordered. "Overlord. The HVI is dead."

* * *

Natalia once again found herself in charge of remnants. The Rangers were the enemy, but she had to give them credit. They kicked ass.

A couple of soldiers had deserted as a result, and her misfit unit was basically brushed off by command and told to hunt them down. She actually noticed a couple of them going in the direction of some American plane that got knocked out of the sky.

"All right, get on your feet. Command wants us to hump our way to this house. You can't miss it, there's a huge-ass aircraft on fire in front of it," she told her troops.

She was gaining respect among her colleagues in the invasion force. Being separated from your unit, having your friends blown apart, taking control of a bunch of green recruits, and being on the wrong end of American special operations really builds a reputation of being a badass. Little innocent Natalie of all people.

Finally at the house, the soldiers not-so-expertly cleared it as Cpl. Petrova strolled through the house, looking into rooms and whatnot. They noticed a Spetsnaz guy dead at the fridge with an empty carton of milk in his hand.

Natalia went upstairs and immediately froze upon the sight she saw. The door to a panic room was ajar and another soldier was dead in front of it, already attracting flies. The maggots, thankfully, weren't there yet. Inspecting the corpse, she thought she recognized some aspect of him. No, not the tattoos. His face was familiar.

It finally hit her. She fumbled around her vest a bit, pulling out a small envelope with a handful of photos in it. Sliding them out she began to file through them, and found the one she was looking for. It was a photo of one of the terrorists suspected in the Zakhaev International Airport Massacre, named Viktor.

"Found you, asshole," she muttered.

Peering inside the panic room, she noticed another body slumped at one of the walls. This one was probably American. She bent down and picked up a Desert Eagle the man had in his hand and inspected it. It would definitely go for a pretty penny if she sold it sometime, so she decided to take it herself.

Why did she hear gunshots going off downstairs?

"Ma'am! Get down, we have Americans in the house!" a soldier shouted, coming inside and gesturing outside the door.

"All right, get back out there and kill them yourself, you wuss!"

"Y-yes ma'am."

He stepped back out and closed the door. The corporal locked it for good measure.

_BANG! BANG! _

The muffled sound of more shots and the _thump _of a body hitting the wall and sliding down could be heard from within the panic room. Natalia nervously pointed her AKS-74 toward the entrance.

The door suddenly was kicked down and a handful of men filed in as she dropped the gun and immediately raised her hands in the air. Surrendering? What was she thinking?

"On the floor!" one of them yelled in Russian.

She recognized them immediately. Multicam uniforms, facial hair, advanced helmets, light vests, and unfamiliar weapons, the telltale signs of JSOC soldiers. Were they Navy SEALs? No, they wear different uniforms. Definitely Delta Force.

"Do you speak English?" the Delta soldier inquired.

"Да. I-mean, yes!" Natalia responded. Dammit, why did she say "da" instead of "yes!?" She learned how to speak English when she was younger, hoping to possibly move to the United States one day and become a (civilian) pilot there.

"You're coming with us, then," the man responded, forcing her to the ground as another soldier handcuffed her. Interestingly enough, the guy with the cuffs wasn't as rough as she had expected. Instead, he gingerly put them on, as if he was trying to be polite about taking a POW.

They took her out of the house, where a helicopter was waiting. Everyone got on and she was put in a seat where everyone could watch her.

"Sorry about this," a soldier whispered as he inserted a needle into her arm, putting her to sleep.

He returned to his seat and sat down, taking off his mask and helmet, sighing with relief. War was a tiring job, after all.

"Can't believe _that's _Corporal Petrova. Russians make it sound like she's a Rambo. Didn't expect this pretty little gal. I would tap that – no, I would _double tap _that. You, Frost?" asked the soldier sitting next to him. He wore a light chest rig, a ballcap, and a pair of sunglasses as opposed to the heavier gear everyone else had.

Frost remained silent.

"Ah. You having dirty daydreams about that Moore chick?"

"Man, Grinch, look who's talking! You're the one who wants to bone the POW, you sick pervert!" an African-American guy called from the opposite seat. He was cradling an LMG, and his emotions were actually noticeable due to his lack of eyewear.

"Grinch, there's no need for this kind of conduct, especially involving a prisoner. And Truck… stop trying to start shit with Grinch! Why can't you two be like Frost?" their commander, Sandman, scolded. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was essentially a mom in charge of a bunch of rowdy kids who played army.

"Naww, it's fine, Boss. If they were like me, they would have girl troubles too," Frost joked.

* * *

Derek Westbrook was his real name, and he was a Corporal. He got the name Frost because before he joined the army, he was a scene kid and thought it would be cool to have white hair. Seriously. No one really knew about that until they found his old Facebook account.

When the military started reforms during the Russian Civil War, they didn't just focus on getting female soldiers into combat arms roles. There was a calling for more special operations members after the brass noticed their effectiveness during the war. However, there was a shortage of volunteers. After all, no one wanted to go and fight after the nuke killed so many troops.

The rules were bent – yet again. This time, the minimum age to apply to Delta Force was lowered from 22 to 18. However, the standards were still the same.

Derek wanted to do something with his career. He didn't want to be a plain grunt, cannon fodder to be thrown at the enemy. (For this reason, he resented General Shepherd as a commander.) Instead, he wanted to be the best of the best, and the opportunity to join Delta Force was too awesome to pass up. He applied, hoping that he could actually succeed. The odds were against him, being a 20-year old without any special operations experience.

He pushed his hardest… and _failed_. But for some reason, the brass decided that they would pass him anyway. They were that desperate.

Westbrook didn't expect that he would be sent on any ops any time soon, especially because he wasn't fit enough to legitimately get into Delta Force anyway. Instead, his superiors made him train harder so he technically was up to standards.

Well, the US ended up going into Afghanistan yet again and he was more or less forced into Team Metal (who was one man short) and began operations.

The Tier 1 Alpha Unit rotated out of the sandbox about a month before the Russian invasion and in turn was readily available to participate in the defense.

For all intents and purposes that was how Frost managed to encounter two certain people he would be seeing a lot of in the near future.

* * *

**Bleh. One 3000+ word chapter. I think it turned out all right, considering how I had some trouble getting ideas for it. I really don't want this fanfic being a recap of the MW2 campaign. Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm introducing Frost from MW3 as a character in this fic. You won't know what his role will be other than Jenna's crush. Heck, you might not even see him again! Nah, that's not convincing at all, considering I took a few paragraphs to give him a backstory. But keep reading and somewhere down the road you'll see where this all comes together. Trust me, I have this **_**sorta**_** planned out. Hope you guys are enjoying this. Woo.**


	8. Redacted

**Before you guys read this brand new chapter ****OF DEATH**** go check out Call of Duty: Homefront by Hawk-Eye-33. It's a SYOS (Submit Your Own Soldier) fic. Not only am I asking you to check it out because the one and only Jenna Moore happens to be a character there, but the concept sounds awesome (I mean CoD and Homefront. It's like peanut butter and jelly) too, and the fic deserves plenty of support. Of course, other people have submitted their OCs, once I find out who, I'll tell you guys to support them too. Hope this link works.**

** s/10384169/1/Call-of-Duty-Homefront**

**Anyway, here is your chapter.**

* * *

_Operation__ [Redacted] _

_Cpl. Natalia Petrova_

_Status: P.O.W._

_Russian VDV_

_Undisclosed safehouse, USA_

Natalia awoke in a dimly-lit room, unaware of where she was or what the hell was going on. Yawning, she tried to cover her mouth only to realize she was handcuffed. Still.

Oh yeah, that's what happened. She was captured by American Special Forces last time she checked. Looking around, she could barely make out a few objects – odds and ends such as a Taser, a bucket of water, a speaker…

Meanwhile, Derek "Frost" Westbrook and his CO "Sandman" were waiting outside the room waiting for Petrova to wake up. There was a camera watching the HVI 24/7. A green light next to the door lit up.

"Frost. Sleeping Beauty's awake. You know the drill, you're good cop, I'm bad cop. Let's get this over with, shall we?" Sandman muttered, opening the door and walking in. "Good morning, bitch. What did you do to get in here?"

(translate this) "Suck a cock," Natalia retorted.

"I don't think you should take him too personally, love. But on the other hand, telling him to 'suck a cock' isn't very kind either," Frost said somewhat charmingly.

If there was one thing he could use to his advantage, it was his apparent charisma.

Cpl. Petrova didn't fall for it. She knew he was just trying to win her over, after all. Plus, something about him reminded her of that asshole Peter.

"Pardon me, I believe I forgot to introduce myself. You can call me 'Frost,' and he's 'Sandman.' And you?" Frost politely asked.

"Natalia Petrova. Corporal," she replied flatly. She immediately realized that she sounded an awful lot like that Pvt. Morgan she and Vik interrogated and executed a while back…

"So, Corporal. Now that we know each other, how about we–"

"Cut the bullshit, Frost. Petrova, we've heard a lot about you. How about you tell us all about it?" Sandman interrupted.

_Bend over, here it comes, _Natalia thought.

* * *

"…then this couple comes up and volunteers to fly out. They were young and I'm sure they were engaged recently. Well we got them onto the Blackhawk and tried to fly them out, then the tail gets hit and they went down. It's so screwed up, I don't know what to think of this war anymore, James. I thought the Russkies were people just like us, but they seem hell-bent on killing every civvie we try to rescue…" Pvt. Jenna Moore trailed off, tears forming in her eyes.

The Rangers had returned to their base and were trying to recover from the heavy losses they endured. Jenna herself was worn out as hell, being a medic and all. The injured poured in by the dozens each second. She just couldn't forget the incident at the evac site, either. Fortunately, she had Pvt. James Ramirez to turn to as a friend.

"…but I guess it's what happens, right? Besides, everything wasn't completely bad," she sniffled.

"Really? What kind of good could possibly happen?" James replied.

"Well, you saw how those Delta guys dropped me off to meet up with you guys?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I– uh, I dunno. I got to talk a bit to one of them," she said, her eyes lighting up.

"By 'talk,' you mean that he gave you orders, right?" James teased, rolling his eyes.

"H-hey! That's not the point. I think… I think that I might be in love with the guy."

"Seriously?" James asked.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little jealous. Ever since Jenna showed up on base in Afghanistan he had a crush on her. He didn't understand how she chose Allen and Wade, with their jerkass, over him, with his general kindness. What ever happened to the karma system?

"I mean, coming from you! Who recklessly slept with guys on base again?" he angrily snapped.

He could see from the way she turned away and looked at the ground that he hurt her feelings, and he immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn't mean to be so rude. What I was trying to say is how do you know you even like the guy?"

"I haven't really felt this way before. Like, all the people I've been with, I really couldn't give two shits about. But this guy, I could see it in his eyes. He's different," Jenna spoke.

"Oh. You know, I still haven't heard his name," James responded.

"Whoops, sorry. I don't know his real name, but he went by 'Frost.' Maybe they call him that because he's real stoic, but he seemed more entrancing," Jenna answered.

"Oh, come on, you're in love with this Prince Charming and you don't even know his _name?_"

"Screw off."

* * *

That so-called prince was interrogating someone at the moment.

"I'm not talking, I thought you'd pick up on that, Yankee," Natalia sneered.

"Okay, that's cool with me. But my friends beg to differ," Sandman grinned sadistically, pointing at his torture devices. Picking up the Taser, he inquired, "Ever stick your finger in a light bulb socket as a kid?"

"What are you planning on doing with that?"

"Geez, you aren't as sharp as we thought, blondie," he taunted as he shocked her.

Natalia tried to resist it, but of course the electricity was too overwhelming. Frost winced at her cries of pain which echoed throughout the room.

"Care to talk?" Sandman asked.

"No way."

He once again tased her, and it became a cycle.

"Dude, that's enough, ask some actual questions now," Frost butted in. This was all part of the act.

"Frost, buzz off."

Then he slapped the Taser out of Sandman's hand and pinned him against the wall, saying, "I'm sure you've tortured this girl plentifully. You're done, got it?"

"Whatever."

"Now that he's done shocking you to within an inch of your life, I'll ask you nicely. What have you done since you set foot on this soil?" Frost said, turning to Natalia.

She wasn't conscious of it, but she was giving in to the act and willingly answered to Frost.

"I killed your soldiers," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Anyone special?"

"No."

Frost took out a photo of Wade's body and showed it to Natalia.

"Look familiar?"

"Y-yes."

"Who is this man?"

"He's a soldier my squad interrogated."

"Who executed him?"

"My CO."

"You know, we're not that stupid, ma'am. We traced the round in his head to the handgun in your possession. And your friends loved to tell us about how much of a heroine Cpl. Natalia Petrova was, and one of her deeds included executing some 'American bastard.' So I'll pretend I didn't just hear you lie to me, and I'll ask you again, who executed him?"

"I did."

"You did what?"

"I executed Private Wade."

"Good, now we're making progress," Frost smiled.

Natalia immediately noticed that she had given in and spilled the beans. She resolved that she wouldn't do that again.

"Now, onto the next question. We hear that you are quite adept at leading your comrades to fight after they've been to hell and back, even though you're not in a position of leadership. Why is that?"

Silence.

"All right, Sandman, you know what to do. Sorry, darling, but the less you say the more pain you'll get," Frost said, turning around.

Sandman rolled up a cart with a giant speaker on it, and positioned it next to Natalia's chair. He proceeded to plug in an ancient-looking iPod and casually scroll through the playlist. Even the clicks pounded heavily against Natalia's ear.

"I could have sworn I told Grinch to put some Nickelback on here," Sandman commented.

"Calm down Satan," Frost said back.

"Are you a fan of heavy metal?" Sandman then asked his prisoner. "We sure are, you might be too. But by the time we're done with you, next time you hear it you'll shoot yourself in the head."

Both of the soldiers put on their ear protection and started the music.

"OH GOD!" Natalia screamed at the top of her lungs, the blaring noise drowning out her voice.

She felt deprived of all of her senses, and even her thoughts were lost in the song.

"ALL RIGHT, STOP, JUST STOP IT PLEASE!" she pleaded desperately.

Frost yanked out the cord and walked towards the dazed Russian. She looked absolutely adorable, her head wobbling and her eyes focused on some arbitrary point in space, blinking rapidly.

"Uhh… can you hear me?" he asked, tilting his head and waving his hand in front of her face.

She didn't respond at all, leading to his correct assumption that she was temporarily deaf.

The two interrogators went out of the room as a solitary guard stepped in to keep watch.

A few minutes later, they entered again with a table and a tray.

Sandman set up the table and Frost dropped the tray on the surface. Natalia couldn't tell what was in it at all due to a cover on top of it. She found herself uncuffed.

"Thank y–" she tried to say, but they were already gone.

She opened the container, nervous of what was inside. All that was on it was assorted food. Steak, vegetables, a little bit of bread, and a few slices of cheese. An unopened can of Coca-Cola sat in the corner of the tray. The aroma was extremely enticing.

It was tempting, but she was told all about how Americans treated prisoners, and to be wary of their "food." Their meat was maggot-infested, the bread stale, and the cheese filled with mold. The drinks were occasionally laced with laxative, also.

Poking through the meat, there were no fly larvae at all. She ripped off a small piece of bread and it was actually fine. The cheese was completely safe. As for the Coke, those were sealed at the factory, and there would have been signs of tampering.

Natalia was absolutely starving and decided to consume the meal before her, and it was one of the best things she had ever tasted in her life. Why wasn't it as terrible as she had expected?

Her interrogators returned, and she actually heard them this time.

Frost chuckled and said, "So? How was some of the best food the US military could offer? Amazing, right?"

Petrova caught herself smiling and nodding and aptly ceased her excited behavior.

"It's good to hear you've enjoyed your grub and recovered from that music, but we still need to get some info out of you," Frost continued, the smile fading from his face.

"No more Mr. Nice Guy!" Sandman snapped, kicking Frost in the balls and dropping his limp body on the ground, which pulled into a fetal position. "All right, you dirty Russkie whore. You're going to tell me what I wanna hear."

He pushed the empty tray and the coke can off the table and slammed down the bucket and towel. Natalia immediately recognized what was going to happen: good old-fashioned waterboarding. Something inside her clicked, and she immediately remembered almost drowning in the cold waters after her jump training incident.

"No, no! Not that! Anything but that! Please!" she begged.

Sandman was surprised. This girl survived two ass-kickings from the Rangers, and in interrogation both got tased and deafened. Water was her weakness?

Frost got up, clutching his abdomen. He tried to talk, but couldn't. Slapping Sandman on the back, he proceeded out of the room and slumped against the wall. It was all an act, but _damn _that hurt.

"Fine. I have one more thing to ask for the day. Where's your unit? I mean, the last one you commanded," Sandman inquired.

"They're dead," Natalia replied obediently.

_Right. We kind of killed her misfits, _Sandman thought.

"Never mind. Do you know what happened to the unit you originally deployed with?"

"No, I was separated from them. Command decided to assign me to a different one, which ended up engaging the Rangers."

"Where is your base?"

"I have no idea. I'm a mere Corporal, not some kind of high-ranked officer."

Sandman punched her in the gut, growling, "Don't give me that kind of attitude, you worthless shit. Anyway, we're done with you for now. Congratulations."

He exited the room and met Frost, who high-fived him immediately.

"Well, sir, I think it worked. She'll see me as the good interrogator here on out. Next time, please don't nutshot me. I think my future kids felt that…" Frost greeted with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, Frost. In other news, I don't think she's worth our time. The chick's not that dangerous. Just another propaganda tool the Russians are using for morale," Sandman responded.

"We still don't know her full story. We'll ask at tomorrow's session."

* * *

"_Tell us all about yourself. We need to know everything you've done."_

"_I was drafted into the military at 18. I had once dreamt of being a civilian pilot in the United States at one point, actually. That's why I can speak English. I tried becoming a pilot, but instead I ended up in the closest thing, which was airborne. I had a few incidents, though."_

"_Tell us about it."_

"_There was a popular soldier who I will refer to as 'Peter.' He always tormented me, for no reason, really. Peter really wanted to get in my pants."_

"_All right. Keep going."_

"_The first incident, I was at a bar with my friends. He was drunk and after I refused to do it with him, he attempted to drag me into the bathroom and force it. So I kicked him in the… what do you call them? Balls, correct? His friend hit me and we almost fought if it weren't for our CO stopping it all. Everyone thought I hit Peter over the head with a bottle, even though that was his friend."_

"_Anything else?"_

"_He tried sneaking into my barracks at night before jump training. Punched him in the gut. Next day, he pushed me out of the plane early. I fell into icy water and almost drowned."_

"_Is that why you were afraid of water interrogation?"_

"_Yes sir."_

"_I see. Well, this has been a productive session. We're planning on releasing you soon."_

"_Releasing?"_

"_Yes. You want to go home too, right? We're humans also. We want to go home and see our families… that is, if they're not dead."_

_But Natalia refused to believe any of it despite all the evidence. Americans were monsters. If they supposedly had any sense of humanity then they wouldn't have massacred so many innocents at the airport. They were lying, trying to manipulate her. Make her feel bad for them. This just fueled her hatred more. As soon as she got out, she would find the VDV, wherever they would be, and join them again. This time, she wouldn't be captured. She would fight to the death. No amount of American food or false hospitality would win her over. Death to America, right?_

* * *

Jenna lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt somewhat better about the evac site incident, but the only thing on her mind was Frost.

_Frost._

He didn't have the same demeanor or appearance as the other Delta guys. She found him perfect, absolutely perfect the way he was. He didn't have that "tough guy" act, unlike the rest. He wasn't extremely buff, he was clean-shaven. And his enchanting electric blue eyes made her freeze, piercing her to the core. "Frost" suited him well. Heck, he could be anyone's crush had he not been wearing a uniform. The military wasn't as female-heavy as the civvie world. And no woman save Jenna was in special operations, making her encounter with him that more special. Maybe she was the only person who ever fell in love with him, at least the only female.

Wait. What if he had a girlfriend, or even worse, a wife? No, that couldn't be. One of his buddies teased him about getting a number.

Jenna suddenly found herself blushing. Perhaps he reciprocated that feeling?

She might never see him again. War doesn't discriminate when it picks its victims. She might die before ever seeing him and vice versa. If not, he was Delta, who says he wouldn't disappear?

All Moore knew was that this was distracting her from her duty as a Ranger and as a medic. This was an excellent motivation for her, actually. She resolved that she would go through hell and back just to confess to him. It just so turned out that hell was full of Russians.

* * *

**Here you go. A chapter! I'm sorry if you were looking forward to action. Instead, you get Natalia's interrogation and a bit (ugh fine a lot) of Jenna x Frost tease. Mwahahahahah. Anyway, I'm writing this from the East Coast. I'm on vacation. I've been in Maryland, Virginia (*gasp* that's where some of these chapters took place!), North Carolina, and South Carolina. *ahem.* None of that is really important, just thought it would be good for you to know. Anyway, thanks for the support (if it's still there).**


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